something, something
by Angela Nguyen
Summary: this time, i'm not leaving without you.


One of these days I will stop writing about different scenarios in which these two got together, I swear. I'm working on something bigger and less rom-com, but what can I do, muse rules them all. I've found I've been writing too much from Ren's perspective, and it's not fair for the sweet adorable candy-loving ass-kicking Jeanne.

(also, have I said I've finished with the college application thingy? Waiting to see if i get into one of those prestigious schools, now.)

A shoutout to sweet and talented RenJeanne artist Eve-chan, who's been very sick. I hope you get well soon, honey! /kisses

**I don't own Shaman King. **Fic title and summary are from "You and I" by Lady Gaga, which, bless my Little Monster heart (and paws), **doesn't belong to me**.

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><p><strong>something, something<strong>

_this time, I'm not leaving without you_.

.

They made a mismatching, perhaps dysfunctional pair. She knew. She knew it from the first date, if you could call it that - there had been a three-foot distance between them and Shamash and Bason trailing behind, their metaphorical breaths down their necks - in Mt. St. Michael. She'd had her share of fairy-tale-romance dreams; but Ren, with all of his long hair and neat suits and white horses and coming-to-her-hometown-to-visit-bless-his-heart, was, frankly, nowhere near Prince Charming material. She joked, as they sat beside her glass coffee table and little white flower vase, his form slightly too big in her shrunken armchair, that if he hadn't owed her his life (twice), she would never have seen him again at all.

He schooled his expression into a careful painstakingly blank one, but there was this twitch on the corner of his mouth that she took as an agreement. Finishing refilling his cup, she leaned back on the couch, smoothed the newly formed wrinkles on her dress, and let her constant smile drop a bit.

It all went downhill from there.

"I do not harbor any negative feelings towards you, Ren Tao," she declared over the brim of her Darjeeling, fifteen minutes and twenty-two seconds into their third getting-to-know-the-neighborhood session, "But it is clear to even your horse that this whole stratagem you have to sweep me off my feet is not working."

She was silently glad that he didn't sputter perfectly brewed tea in reply to her observation – that would be both utterly disgraceful and dreadfully clichéd – and that was the only thing on her mind for a few moments, as she waited for him to finish staring at the bottom of his cup like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Her mind was inching dangerously back to the realm of Plato when she heard a loud clank of his spoon meeting the delicate china dish.

"'Sweeping off feet' is a very trite expression, you know," he said after a few beats, "I would have expected you to be more creative."

He sounded suspiciously like Marco pre-beating-up-an-X-Law-member.

She smiled sunnily.

"Not working," she waved the waiter over and paid for her tiny cup of tea and giant slice of vanilla shortcake in a blink of an eye.

"Now, if you excuse me, it is the twenty-first century, and I have my studies to finish, as well as other useful things that could not be accomplished if I just sat here waiting for a man to figure out a way to turn me into a housewife."

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><p>She didn't hear from him for the next two months. And during this time she was honestly too busy to think much about him; hello, only sixteen-year-old student making her way through law school here. Occasionally, though, as she sat at the corner of her favorite tea shop, nursing a cup of Earl Grey, nearly drowned under readings and deadlines, she found herself recalling the detached way he landed himself in the seat opposite hers, the frankly alarming amount of milk he liked to put into his tea, and law school didn't seem so horrible after all.<p>

She wondered if he had found someone else to marry; she could not have been his only female acquaintance. Anna was out of the picture; Tamao would've been ideal if she hadn't been busy with maintaining the Asakura household, and Pirika should be a great choice, she was his best friend's sister and all. Whomever he found, she hoped that person was a better match for him than she, no matter how much he thought otherwise.

It was not like she wasn't fond of him; she wouldn't lie to herself. But attractions were attractions, they weren't permanent, and it wouldn't be best for her to follow this instantaneous, potentially short-lived fascination, and do something risky, something they would both eternally regret.

In her mind, she'd always pictured that someday, she'd meet someone. Maybe not a Prince Charming – she'd had enough unholy revelations in her short life to stop believing in fairy tales – but someone who shared her interests and opinions, who cared for her and – must she say it? – loved her. Ren, as far as she could see, did not share any interests of hers, except for maybe a small mutual appreciation for tea. And when it came to "opposites attract", wasn't the love of your life one who could shake your world? Make you realize the errors of your old lifestyle, introduce you to the opposite of it, change you for the better?

She remembered, with a start, how Ren had not only enjoyed tea like she did. There was also the silence. All those times they'd gone out together, there hadn't been much conversation, for neither of them was of the talkative sort. So, she mused; wasn't the true love for one so reserved as her supposed to be lively, pull her out of the bubble, make her see the world in a different light?

On the outside, Ren seemed like the opposite of her, but deep down, they were too alike for comfort. Every time she caught his eyes, it felt like he could see pass her bright eyes and calm smiles to the little, heartbroken little girl of ten years ago; like he could see through her very soul. And she wasn't ready for it, any of it.

So she convinced herself they were not meant to be together.

And mostly succeeded.

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><p>Ren Tao, however, was nothing if not stubborn. Two months after her sixteenth birthday and three and a half after he left, he showed up on her doorstep without preamble.<p>

And got the door slammed at his face.

She would later scold herself for this completely unforgivable lack of tact, but at that moment, she could do little more than close her eyes, keep her hand from shaking where it sat on the handle, and fight down the urge to run and hide.

A slip of paper was slid under the door.

_I'll be at the teashop if you're done panicking._

That was how they ended up in their usual seats with their usual orders steaming and smelling tranquil on the table later that afternoon. Eyes wide, she realized they'd just picked up their spoons and added things to their respective tea at the exact same time: her two cubes of sugar, him three spoonfuls of milk. Putting the spoon down slowly with an almost imperceptible headshake, she lifted the cup to her lips, letting her brain get used to the idea of being courted by the one and only Ren Tao.

"I don't want to marry anyone else, you know," he said after a while.

And I think you are just this side of crazy. Well-behaved and gorgeous-eyed, but still out of your mind, and can't take a hint even if a neon sign of "WARNING: Self-Destructive With Emotional Problems and Trust Issues – A Walking Cliché Of Girl With Traumatized Childhood and Over-Exposure to Torturing Devices and Dead Bodies" were taped onto my head.

She didn't say that, obviously.

Instead, she looked at him. Really looked at him. At how he was just … there. How he wasn't trying to save her, to change her. How he had waited, and was still waiting for her.

So she thought, Screw it, and invited him to dinner.

"Just a note, I will pay for my own meal."

He let out something that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.

"Oh, I wouldn't expect anything less."

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><p>They ended up having a house, a company, and a carriage. And a kid. Let's not forget the kid.<p>

When Men turned three months old and could crawl and grip Bason in his tiny fingers, she received a bunch of white flowers one morning with no card in it. She gave a smile, put it in the vase she'd brought from her French home, and eyed him questioningly when he got home that day.

He shrugged, uncharacteristic as it might sound.

"You can choose not to be a housewife, you know." Men crawled onto his lap, and he twirled a silver lock of hair in his finger, idly. "This rival is pulling some stupid shits, and I just realized I don't have a legal consultant."

Silence.

"I demand regular payment, and no favoritism."

She gave him her Ren-smile nonetheless.

So, he might too much milk, and she might eat (a bit) too much sweets, and she might have always played the role of prince in their less-tears and more-tea fairy tale, and they might each still be going through their own struggles with the remnants of their pasts.

Still, they lived happily ever after.

END

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><p>AN: Thank you very much for reading, and please don't hit me for the insane hiatus. Oh, please review too! All my love.


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